


The Virtue of Shadows

by Thea_K



Series: Of Vices and Virtues [1]
Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark!Taka, Denial of Feelings, I repeat - NSFW!, M/M, Man has needs, NSFW, Squint and you might see a plot, almost pwp, vices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26510569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thea_K/pseuds/Thea_K
Summary: Everyone has their vices, Taka supposes. But some vices are best kept in the shadows.Or: The one you should definitely make sure no one's reading over your shoulder. Mask wearing in public is advised, and not just for coronavirus reasons.
Relationships: Morita Takahiro/Yamashita Toru, Moriuchi Takahiro/Yamashita Toru
Series: Of Vices and Virtues [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935514
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	The Virtue of Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Um.... I have no real excuse for this, really. 
> 
> I decided to take a mental health and rest day from doing assignments. Why my brain decided to 'rest' by writing my first ever almost-PWP, I have no idea.
> 
> Um... enjoy? 😅
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and no offense is meant.

> Show me a man without a vice, and I’ll show you one without virtue. – Pittacus Lore.

Everyone has their vices, Taka supposes.

Some people are given to excessive drinking, some to gambling, and others to compulsive shopping habits. Some vices are socially acceptable. Like smoking, which the singer thinks looks alluring and would love to indulge in, but – alas – his voice takes precedence. You could even say that working hard beyond one’s limits on a daily basis was a vice, if their culture hadn’t warped this into a national virtue.

But some vices are best kept in the shadows.

Like the one that has him discretely unlocking the other’s door, at an hour way past one at which even the hardest working salary-man would go to bed.

Taka slips off his shoes and quietly steps up from the _genkan_ on to the polished wooden floor.

The silent inside of the apartment is a murky blue-black, lit dimly by a streetlamp beyond the balcony. The darkness doesn’t phase him, however; he knows from experience to avoid the sharp, glass edges of the ornamental, modern fireplace, and to not bump his shins against the scattered ottomans.

He knows especially not to collide into the side table, on which he knows there to be several photo frames stood.

When he reaches the heavy mahogany coffee table, he unpockets his _keitai_ and keys. He carefully sets them down, not wanting to scratch the wooden surface.

A moment of reconsideration when he hears the approach of a lone car in the street. He pauses and watches as its headlights create a momentary play of light and strange shadows on the walls and furniture. The brief flash of light brings him to his senses; it’s probably a graveyard shift worker on his way home. _You know_ , his mind whispers, _where you should be_.

The light glints off the silver rims of the photo frames, and the sight is almost enough to make him double-think.

But then the car - its light and with it, his reason – passes. The room is again plunged in darkness, and the craving resurges from within and sets him in motion. Deftly he crosses the room, down the short hallway and finally into the room at its end.

Here, away from the street and any lamps, it is utterly black. The room is almost soundless, save for the soft exhales of the sole occupant on the bed. 

Blindly, Taka shucks off his shirt and his pants, and crawls on his hands and knees onto the bed. He doesn’t stop until he hovers over the other, who sleeps on his side. And it’s probably telling, of how many times _this_ has occurred, that the other doesn’t even rouse until Taka begins to press a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, and when the other turns on to his back, down his naked chest.

“Wha-?” the other murmurs sleepily, his already deep voice roughened with sleep. The awakened man lifts his head slightly to regard his assailant, but lowers it when he realises what is happening.

The question is left answered as Taka makes his way down to the light line of hair past the other’s belly button. Without ceremony, he hooks his fingers on to the elastic of the other man’s boxers and pulls them down just enough to reveal his still-soft sex. Taka takes a moment to nuzzle it with his nose, breathing in the clean musk of it, the scent making his mouth water. He opens his mouth and lets his warm, moist breath waft over it. Above him, the other man groans. The sound electrifies Taka.

“ _Chotto_ -,” the man protests, but any words that would have followed are lost when the vocalist begins to lick stripes up and down the rapidly hardening member. Taka hears a strangled grasp when, on a downwards pass, he thinks to continue south to gently suckle on the sensitive skin of the other’s scrotum.

There’s no mistaking, then, that the other man is fully awake when Taka feels gentle hands manoeuvre his head towards the other’s awaiting cock. And he’s all too willing to give it the attention it needs, but first -

“Say it,” he commands the other, grazing his lips against the swollen and exposed head, but refusing to give in to what the other wants. Silence; the other merely tightens his hold of Taka’s hair. In return, the singer digs his fingers in where he grips the other’s hips, with a pressure he knows will leave marks. Still nothing.

“Please,” the other man finally begs, when Taka threatens to lift his head away. And that’s all that the singer needs, for the moment. Pleased, he licks one last stripe up the other’s cock before he engulfs it with his mouth. This time they both groan.

Taka feels the other’s fingers cycle between tightening and relaxing in his hair, in time with the bobbing of his head up and down the shaft. He loves the pleasure-pain of the almost-harsh tugs he feels whenever he pulls back to focus only on the tip. This is where the man beneath him is the most sensitive, judging too from the tangy droplets that escape the slit whenever Taka lingers there. Pretty soon, the vocalist has parked himself at the spot, and uses his dominant hand to continue stimulating the rest.

He loves this; loves the feeling of the other’s legs quaking as his control withers, the quiet sounds of the other’s pleasure, but most of all, the feeling that the other needs _this_ and _he_ can provide it.

Taka is luxuriating in the heady sensations when he is abruptly pushed off as the man beneath him struggles to an upright seated position. He lifts up on to his knees as the other removes his boxers the rest of the way. When he’s done, the vocalist sees through the dimness that the other’s eyes are heavy lidded and his mouth is ajar as he pants. The vocalist revels in the desperate look leveled at him, and him alone. It makes his own cock twitch at the attention.

Slowly, hands cup the backs of his knees and he is pulled up to an eager mouth that greets him with a deep kiss. The singer brings up his hands to tangle them in the other’s hair, loving the other’s unique taste: a smoky dark chocolate the singer can’t get enough of. At the periphery of his focus, he feels the hands on his knees slide up the back of his thighs to start massaging his buttocks. He knows where this will lead and his legs are starting to quiver in anticipation.

Taka moans into the kiss when he feels his cheeks being parted and the tip of a finger prodding at his hole. It circles around it a few times before slowly sinking itself in, joint by joint until it can go in no more. The slickness of the lube that coats his insides from his earlier preparation makes the breach all too easy. 

“ _Unnnnn_ ,” he hears himself cry, as he throws his head back at the welcome intrusion.

“You’re already so ready for me,” the other man observes, the rumble of his voice Taka feels where their chests are pressed together. In response, the singer rocks his hips backwards greedily trying to take in more of the digit. A second, and a third digit make their way in, twisting and spreading, and Taka is almost dizzy with the rush of blood southward. The fingers curl forward and the singer can’t help the guttural sound that leaves his mouth when their tips scrape against _that_ area. He pitches forward, grinding his cock against the other’s. 

Taka opens his eyes that he hadn’t even realised had fallen shut, and stares down at the other’s upturned face. He knows that the other man wants, what he’s silently pleading for, but the vocalist has come here for a reason. 

“Tell me you need me,” he says, when he directs the other’s lips onto the juncture of his jaw and neck, where they proceed to suck before opening to lightly scrape teeth against the skin.

“I need you,” the other exhales before moving on to the vocalist’s other side and repeating the treatment.

Not once have the fingers inside Taka have stopped their ministrations and the singer is slowly losing his mind. They press even more firmly inside, to punctuate the other’s next words: “Please, I need to be inside you.”

Taka feels his himself leaking incessantly in the cramped space between their bodies, and decides he can’t wait any longer. He removes one hand from the other’s hair, and uses it to gather his precum, which he spreads down the other man’s shaft, mixing it with the other’s. The man he straddles reads his intentions and slides out his fingers. He places a kiss on the vocalist’s cheek, and then on his forehead, almost as if he knows how bereft the smaller man feels when the fingers are gone. 

Taka rises up and positions himself so he feels the other’s head at his entrance. He places his hands on the other man’s shoulders and tries his utmost best to keep his eyes open and locked on the other’s when he slowly sinks down. The fingers on his hips curl as he takes the other in, bit by bit. It pleases him to no end when he sees it is not he whose eyes fall closed first, and whose eyebrows furrow at the intense feeling.

“ _Hnnnnnn,_ ” the other man groans when he’s fully seated. Their mouths find each other again, and they wrestle with their tongues while they both adjust to the feeling. The singer’s mind swirls at the intoxicating mix of smoke and chocolate.

After a while, Taka cants forward and begins to roll his hips. The undulating movement causes the other’s shaft to slide partway out and then back in. It makes the man beneath him hiss in pleasure and he moves his hands to cup the smaller man’s cheeks. For a while, the other is happy to let the vocalist ride him at his own pace.

Soon, however, the momentum builds, and Taka feels arms wrapping around his waist for leverage as the patience of the man beneath him grows thin and he begins to thrust himself upwards, deeper into the singer’s body. Taka makes a slight adjustment with his hips, and suddenly the thrusts are hitting right against where he wants them to and he’s seeing stars. Overwhelmed, he cries out and stops his own movements, while the other takes over.

“ _Motto_ ”, Taka whimpers when their mouths disentangle.

Without warning, the other man slides himself out and pushes the singer backwards to lie on the bed. He grabs hold of the backs of the smaller man’s thighs and pushes his knees up and back until they’re almost pinned the mattress. He quickly realigns himself and then, within a space of a breath, he’s back inside. This time the thrusts are much deeper, and precisely aimed at the place that makes Taka’s sense of control unravel like a spool of thread that rolls away towards the precarious edge of a table. The singer’s blunt fingernails claw helplessly at the other’s back as a tingling feeling begins to rapidly build in his groin.

From where he lies, Taka watches as a droplet of sweat rolls off the other man’s face and on to Taka’s chest. The other man’s eyes never leave his, seeming to drink him in, making a warm feeling erupt in the place where the droplet had landed.

 _This man_ , the singer thinks, _at least this man needs you this way._

And suddenly the distance between them is too much to bear. Taka uses one hand to bring down the other man’s face down to his, where he proceeds to pour all his gratitude ( _and perhaps something else_ , his mind whispers) into a desperate kiss.

“Tell me again,” he begs when their mouths part, his spine arcing up off the bed and the tension in his muscles reaching almost fever-pitch.

“I” – thrust – “need” – thrust – “you,” the other man moans back, voice wavering as he accelerates towards the end.

Taka feels the crest of his orgasm fast approaching and all his limbs begin to shake uncontrollably at seeing the man above him coming apart. At last, the singer puts a hand on himself, stroking furiously. _Just a bit more_ , he internally pleads. He’s absolutely delirious with pleasure, his concentration narrowed down to the delicious contractions in his lower half, when he thinks – hopes – he hears:

“And only you.”

And Taka falls off the edge into the sweet, dark abyss. This ecstasy is what he’s come here for...

The thread of his attention is brought back only just in time to watch the last shudders of the other’s completion.

Something dangerous catches within the vocalist’s chest at the thought that he’s partially responsible for the utter bliss that graces the other man’s handsome face. He is enthralled by the sight, but if he were in full possession of his senses, he would be alarmed. For now, however, he chooses to close his eyes and focus on the pleasant fatigue that weighs down on his limbs.

Afterwards, the man above him collapses onto the vocalist, who gingerly brings his hands up to cradle the other man’s head to his chest.

“ _Otsukare_ ,” Taka whispers into his ear, as he runs his fingers through the other’s sweaty hair. A tired ‘mmm’ and a press of lips to the singer’s shoulder is all the response he gets.

He continues stroking the hair beneath his fingertips, long after the other falls back asleep and the pleasant fatigue the smaller man feels fades into a familiar numbness.

✟✟✟

The living room is tinted a dark orange when Taka reemerges and he no longer requires his memory to navigate the space.

He pads quietly and directly to the mahogany table, where he picks up his _keitai_ and keys, placing the latter into his back pocket. Sliding a finger to unlock the device, he quickly checks his notifications and is unsurprised to see a slew from Instagram. He works his jaw and sighs, knowing that all the Likes in the world are a poor shadow compared to what he really craves. He pockets the phone.

At this hour, more and more cars pass by - the earliest of salarymen on their way to work.

Taka stands perfectly still for a moment, watching the shadows from their movement slink over the furniture and walls and disappear into the orange-brown that bathes the room. 

He tries to avoid it, but his eyes are drawn anyway to the side table to his right.

Framed in silver are various memories of the apartment’s owner and a brown-haired beauty with eyes that turn into half-moons when she smiles. There’s no denying that they make a striking pair. Taka wants to turn away, but something in the vocalist tells him to sear the sight into his brain, if he truly wants a fighting chance at ridding himself of this thing that calls him to this place in the dead of the night.

 _You are not needed_ , the smiling faces remind him, _a trifling convenience taken only because freely offered._

So, he continues to stand and stare, until the shadows in the room are no longer and the glare from the rising sun forces him to eventually turn away.

Everyone has their vices, Taka supposes.

The singer slips on his shoes and is gone with a click of the front door, before his one awakes.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it until here, here's some holy water if you need it 💧✟💧✟💧 ... 😅
> 
> As always, your comments are always appreciated, although I totally understand if everyone just. slowly. backs. away. Yeah, maybe I should have done assignments instead 😶😆


End file.
